"Mother Courage And Her Children" in London: War is Terrible, Theatre is Fantasticby Randi / December 7, 2017
When I told people I was seeing The Band’s Visit on Broadway, they asked what it’s about, and I’d say “remember that little Israeli film from like 9 years ago about a group of musicians that gets stuck in a nothing town in the middle of nowhere and then, like, they have to leave?” The answers would invariably be ‘no’ or ‘um…what, no’. Then they’d ask me what else happens in the movie, maybe to jog their memory, and I would say, ‘um…I don’t remember…I don’t think anything.” Having seen the final preview (the last performance before official opening night) of the new musical version of this work, I am pretty sure the same conversation will happen for it too. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing. In fact, this show so unbelievably makes ‘pretty much nothing’ seem like the most beautiful thing about life that it’s going to win Best Musical this year. And so far, it should. The Band’s Visit can sometimes be a bit boring – some people near me were sleeping – but like, in a glorious, magical way.
Based on the 2007 Israeli movie of the same name, TBV is about Israelis and Egyptians with boring lives but it will resonate with most people today about their own lives and whether or not they are also boring. Even non-boring people with non-boring lives will have experienced at least some light anguish or fun-sized depression at some point, and so will connect with what’s happening on the stage. And what’s happening is a kind of special, fragile magic that is rare on Broadway. It’s about normal people in the 1990s, living quiet lives, just everyday people, no one special like in any other show. These everyday people are Israelis living in a little town, it’s a quiet village, called Beit Hatikva in the middle of the Negev desert. Beit Hatikva is not to be confused with Petah Tikva, a town with an Arab Cultural Center where a group of Egyptian military band musicians were supposed to perform, but, considering there’s no ‘p’ sound in Arabic and they naturally substitute the ‘b’, you can see how the musicians did indeed confuse the two and ended up getting bus tickets to Beit Hatikva by accident. In the middle of the dusty Negev, in a village with maybe dozens of people, instead of at an official performance, the musicians are stuck for the night until they can catch a rare bus out of town the next day. While there, they befriend the locals and connect deeply with some despite the hindrance of time.
We meet the Israelis, kind of dawdling through their long, humdrum days, when the sing the opener literally about how they are waiting, just waiting, whether for something new and strange (they all want some strange) to come along, or just for the sky to go about changing its color. About how they stare into the distance expecting what they see to change but knowing that it never will. Luckily, the something new they dream about does come around to jolt their routine, and they are happy to feed and house the lost Egyptian musicians in their homes. Were people still nice and hospitable in the ‘90s? Maybe Israelis were? This show is so good it will make everyone love Jews! Anyway the villagers sing a few funny-sad-sarcastic songs about how nothing happens there and how time just passes and isn’t that sooo great. I love the line “Sometimes time is an ocean/This sofa is my boat and I’m just drifting right along.” I mean sure this might be happening in the Negev but show me one person in America who hasn’t had that exact thought, albeit much less poetic I’m sure, at some point? That’s why this show is so good and so beloved already – it doesn’t matter that it’s about specific people in a specific place; it’s genuinely just reflecting basic humanity, as most theatre tries to do but rarely so poignantly.
And that basic humanity includes the yearning to connect with others, in any way – romantically, with friends, with family, as a parent, everything. The visitors want to find this connection, the villagers want to find this connection. John Cariani, that lovable nerd from Something Rotten, plays an unhappy husband and new father who wants his marriage to be happier so they can raise their child better. He is adorably goofy, like with his parts in “Welcome to Nowhere”, but also brings such sad hope in “Itzik’s Lullaby”. Adam Kantor plays a guy who literally spends the entire show standing at a payphone, pathetically and pitifully waiting for his girlfriend to call. He finally gets to show off with the closer “Answer Me”, which is one of the songs that will stay with you probably forever. I love both these guys and though they have a small amount to do (it’s a 90 minute show! and nothing happens!) they manage to do it so well it breaks your heart. So will Ari’el Stachel as one of the musicians, making friends with the yoots in the town and teaching one hapless one in particular, Papi (the adorbs Etai Benson), about love. His song “Haled’s Song About Love” had me absolutely riveted, because his voice is out of this world. (It’s unfortunate that his is the only song on the cast recording that doesn’t show just how wonderful he is, but he still sounds great.)
But no one will break your heart like Tony Shalhoub and Katrina Lenk. I know, SHALHOUB! Monk! He plays the king of the Egyptians, okay that’s not really a thing, he’s the band leader and a general I think but king of the Egyptians is a bonkers amazing title. His name is Tewfiq, which has replaced ‘toe-pick!’ as a fun thing my brother and I like to shout now. He’s polite enough, and reserved, which is hard to maintain when faced with the unabashed, relentless flowing energy of Katrina Lenk as the local café owner Dina. Lenk is spellbinding in this role, where she doesn’t have much to do in a traditional musical theatre sense but she makes every moment feel like it’s a universe condensed into a movement or a sound. One of the most mesmerizing performers in every aspect, she moves like a dancer while she sings, and sometimes you are more riveted by how she gestures with one graceful arm moving like a ribbon than by what she’s saying. But what she’s saying also feels like the most vital words ever put to music, like you need them in order to breathe. It’s a revelatory performance, completely mesmerizing. If you don’t believe me, go below and listen to ‘Omar Sharif’ and try not to repeat it 50 times in a row.
Dina and Tewfiq both recognize what the other presents – a complete stranger, sure, but someone they didn’t think they’d have the opportunity to meet. It’s not like it’s love at first sight or something, it’s literally just like ‘hey you are…of age…and seem nice…and I have zero options.’ But it’s a beautiful kind of forlorn hope you feel arise. Dina, the unstoppable energy force, takes Tewfiq out to dinner and they eat and then they sit in a park and that’s the extent of what they do for most of the show, just sit and talk and it’s not right how moving it is, it doesn’t make any sense that it can be so heartbreaking and exquisite but it is. They’re all trying to get through life, get through their day, and maybe find someone who cares that they’re getting through it. It’s all kind of sad and wonderful and at several points you’ll do what I did, which is look around and say, ‘this is happening on Broadway??!!’ Fragile magic.
Not just the short amount of time hinders the budding relationships – in friendships, mentorships, and maybe romantic ones – from flourishing. The reality that makes this show so special is also what hinders the characters from hoping for anything more than mediocre: they know that nothing really happens in life like you see in the movies. This is most evident in the song ‘Omar Sharif’, which will send chills down your spine the entire time Katrina sings it, or more accurately, the entire time the force of this music uses Lenk as a vessel to convey its message in an otherworldly sort of way. ‘Omar Sharif’ is an outstanding song and Katrina’s performance during it may win her the Tony, so far away but almost a certainty. She and Tewfiq create pure magic in the park with ‘Something Different’, and despite seeing this opportunity they’ve gotten, we all know and they know that nothing in their lives is really ever going to change. Katrina really steals the show, but it’s in this scene where Shalhoub shows you why he so famous. I really almost went onstage to give him a hug when he shared what keeps him from trying or hoping for anything great, and I didn’t even watch Monk.
I wanted more music, because what there is is truly wonderful and different – it is SO Israeli with that middle eastern rhythm and tones of klezmer music – but I realize that anything more would harm the delicate thing happening onstage. David Yazbek has created a masterpiece. And David Cromer’s masterful direction lets the play happen, seemingly on its own, unfolding so naturally that it feels like a giant body of water, moving ever so slowly with no way of stopping it, slowing it down, or speeding it up. It just happens. There’s so much restraint on everyone’s part to keep the show small and subtle and natural, and that’s what makes the result so special and somehow enormous. It’s like it’s happening in spite of itself, in spite of audience expectations, in spite of being in a Broadway theatre. (I bet this was even more magical when it was downtown in a small theatre, but apparently it still works.) That the unfolding of the action (what little there is) and the monotonous pace of these characters’ lives seems unfettered and unfussed and so natural is really a tribute to everyone involved, letting there be such a subtle result. Like they sing in the show, “nothing is as beautiful as something that you don’t expect.”
This show will stay with you after you’ve seen it, staking permanent space in your mind so you think about it constantly. There’s more silence happening on this stage than in any other theatrical experience I’ve ever seen or heard of. Pure silence. That’s weird right? An often silent, quiet and still show? And yet that silence is a revelation. It’s not the kind that’s filled with unease, that makes you think okay can someone just do something? No, you’re content to just sit with them in that silence, to let it wash over you so you enjoy it all together, and to think with them about their nothing town and their predictable lives, and just, be. Just be in that space with these characters. With such a realistic portrayal of regular people in an unspecial town, silence and boredom and nothing is required. Normal life has those moments, and since realism and honesty are honored here, the experience reflects real life. And that never really gets to happen in musical theatre. I’ll admit at some of those moments I was itching for a song to begin, but that wouldn’t have had the same effect. The restraint evident here is part of why it works. It languishes, it flows like a lazy river, and to tamper with that would throw off the sense of realism, the sense that we are just getting a peek into actual people’s lives. And honestly I feel so lucky that I got to see into these people’s lives, and that this little show for grown-ups with absolutely zero commercial promise on paper is so wonderful.
STAGEDOOR
I went to the very last preview before opening night, so the cast may have just been extra excited to share the love, but everyone came out and took pictures and happily talked to everyone waiting. The crowd is different from usual, because it’s a lot of Israelis and Jews and Arabs who want to talk and it’s so freaking awesome. The title of this post has HABIBI!! in it because that’s the first thing I think of when I think about this show – the Israeli woman in the crowd at stagedoor who I think every time a cast member came out would scream HABIBI! in excitement. It was the best. It’s telling such an important story and it’s rare to get Middle Eastern people presented in a show where they are just average people with regular lives. So everyone is excited about that and you should be too.
INFORMATION
It’s a short 90 minutes with no intermission. If you’re like me and you already have to pee just reading that, don’t run to the toilets as soon as it ends because the musicians play a little amazing concert at curtain call.
The most important information? The cast recording is now finished, and it’s streaming on soundcloud. Entertainment Weekly has it here for you to listen to for free RIGHT NOW. Like I said above, try not to repeat “Omar Sharif” over and over and over and over…
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Edinburgh Fringe Part 3: The Best of the Fest: “Kathy and Stella Solve a Murder!”, “Bloody Elle”, “Learning to Fly”
We’ve made it the final edition of our Edinburgh Fringe round-up! Like Vanessa Williams before she hammed it up on a telenovela and learned to say “Maaaaark” haughtily (I’m rewatching Ugly Betty), I’ve saved the best for last. I enjoyed all the shows I crammed into my Fringe weekend (which you can catch up on in Part 1 and Part 2 (despite all the cursing I did enjoy everything)), but three shows stood out. Not only were they the best of the fest, they were some of the most moving, most well done, and/or most fun shows I’ve seen in years. YEARS, MARK. These are the gems that stood out, the ones that I truly hope have a long, wide-reaching run once they leave Enbra. (Look at me I’m local now.)
Kathy and Stella Solve a Murder! by Jon Brittain and Matthew Floyd Jones
I am not a fan of true crime anything – not the documentaries, not the serial podcasts (or the Serial podcast), not even the satirical (is it?) comedy (IS IT) ‘Only Murders in the Building’. I don’t even watch the news because I just don’t want to HEAR about MURDER. That line that Baby Apatow says in ‘Knocked Up’ – “I googled murder!” – is the only enjoyable thing in this whole genre for me. That is, until this musical. “Kathy and Stella” tells of two best friends who have a middling true crime podcast (who doesn’t!), but when their favorite author gets murdered, they become embroiled in the case, trying to solve the mystery while also getting the chance to blow up to superstardom (at least as far as murder podcasts go).
Despite the subject matter that normally gives me the heebies and the willies, the entire crowd was laughing the entire time, and I was leading the charge. The show is sensational! (I just finished Mel Brooks’ autobio and I feel like I just quoted him.) The two stars playing Kathy and Stella are equally hilarious and talented, with great singing voices and even better comedic timing. Their every gesture and facial expression was exactly attuned to their characters. So many little lines and looks were somehow hysterical. The whole five person ensemble shines as well, with each person getting a chance to shine, and just when you think you have a favorite, someone else steps forward and does something hysterical/sings something amazing/tells the best joke and steals the crown. I can’t even begin to recount all the times I CACKLED laughing, though I do remember just dying when they were in the police station and Stella said something about them being pigs. The crowd loved that, obvs, we’re good people.
There are so many bops in the score too. Nothing stood out as the sort of thing to become a classic showtune, but all the music was fun and fresh and enjoyable. It was just a blast. There’s a little dip in the momentum just after the half-way mark, when you kind of don’t believe that Stella would fabricate evidence to share with their social media followers, but that might have been just my own frustration at someone f-ing with the chain of custody and lying to allege someone else’s guilt. But overall, it was the strongest musical of the fest, and I’ve rarely seen an audience have more fun. My face hurt from laughing so much, and though I wouldn’t rush to buy the score, it was perfect for the experience. I can see this having a sold-out run at the Southwark.
INFORMATION: The show is playing in a circus tent (Roundabout at Summerhall) so the nearest toilets are a bit hard to find, upstairs in the school building behind the tent. (Just ask the staff, they’re milling around.) There are outdoor bars just outside with water pitchers – the Fringe venues are pretty good about having water pitchers! The show went 18 minutes past scheduled end time. It’s okay, it’s a treat. You’d think being outside in a circus tent would mean more fresh air and air flow but you would be mistaken.
Bloody Elle, by Lauryn Redding
Literally the only disappointment I can share about this gorgeous, moving, brilliant one-woman show is that I’m now learning the writer and performer is named Lauryn, and not Elle, and so I am guessing that it was not as autobiographical as it seemed. Why am I so sad that this heartbreaking personal tale might not be true, why did I want this lovely young woman to have actually suffered so much in real life for our entertainment? BECAUSE IT WAS BRILLIANT.
“Bloody Elle” is an incredibly honest and beautiful telling of a young girls’ first love with another girl. Elle, our heroine, works at Chips & Dips and is muddling through life until a new girl, Eve, joins the staff and turns her world upside-down. Their budding romance is conveyed believably, feelingly, emotionally, and we are there for every single inch of the roller coaster. Elle shares the tale with her expert storytelling, her powerful singing, and her uncanny ability to imitate a whole cast of deeply drawn characters. (I say imitate like I actually heard the real people, and am realizing that’s just the strength of Lauryn’s abilities. Each Chips & Dips employee was ON THAT STAGE. ‘Our Jack’ is my fave, obvs, hope he’s real more than anything.)
Some lyrics were a little hackneyed, whenever she was trying for more ‘impressive’ figurative language instead of sticking to simple but honest lyrics. Simple and true is always better than trying to sound smart. But I noticed that kind of thing only a few times, and for the most part the music, and all the writing, was like an arrow shooting straight for your heart. It was raw, and heartfelt, and she is such a strong performer that you have no choice but to jump in and feel everything with her. We laughed, we sobbed, we laughed, we really truly cried with her and felt her pain, and then laughed some more, and then felt hope, and then cried more, and so on. This is one of those shows that make you believe in the power of art. Just an amazing gem.
INFORMATION: This is playing in the Traverse theatre, the more profesh of Fringe venues, so it’s a comfortable regular-ish theatre space with big toilets and a big bar with several water pitchers.
Learning to Fly, by James Rowland
Without a doubt, ‘Learning to Fly’ is my favorite thing I’ve seen not only of the festival, but in a looooong time. This one-man casually set talk in a small anatomy classroom was one of the most flawless pieces of theatrical storytelling I’ve ever seen. I can’t get over how good this was. I said good like a IDIOT; this shit is AMAZING. This is up there on my list of favorite things, full stop. James Rowland is a STORYTELLER for the GOTTAM AGES. There are few things I don’t have at least one or two bits of constructive criticism for (okay I like to think I’m constructive but I acknowledge that sometimes I am just a b word.) But this? This shit was SHEER PERFECTION.
I honestly don’t know how to say anything else except yell (can you hear me I bet you can because I’m loud) about how great this is.
James tells the very-true-seeming-I-hope-it’s-true-it-seems-true-I-mean-of-course-it-is-but-Lauryn’s-got-me-second-guessing-everything-now story of when he was a boy and was forced to spend time with his scary older lady neighbor, who he was convinced was a witch, as all kids are of their older lady neighbors. As expected, their ‘relationship’ is stilted from his trepidation, as he spends the hours watching TV and she stays in the other room. Everything changes with one of the most vividly drawn tales of a bathroom incident gone wrong, when they are forced to let down their guards, stand in the same room together (the bathroom), and finally become friends. All of this is told so well, conveying all the emotions and excitement and fears you could possibly imagine, and we were having a lovely time.
And then James gets his old lady neighbor some ecstasy to lift her spirits, and the show kicks into another gear you had no idea was coming, and it is f-ing hilarious.
James plays all of our emotions like a fiddle. Like a damn FIDDLE. We were laughing, we were weepy, we were struck dumb, we were laughing again, we were puppets attached to the strings he controlled. The twists and falls and emotional turns never stop coming – from the hijinks you expect from a teenage boy trying to buy drugs in high school, to him suggesting this plan to her, to his fakeout of her reaction, to her dying, to her NOT dying actually, to her dying again, to him trying to get a hold of his own life as an adult, it’s all told so expertly, so warmly and lovingly, that I think I will have a hard time listening to anyone else try to tell a story ever. Does it have drugs? Does it have classical music on drugs? Does it have poop floating in a flooded bathroom? Does it have a woman who comes back from the dead and is high as a kite drinking with EMTs? then KEEP IT.
If you have the chance to hear James tell this story this weekend, you simply must. Hopefully he will get to tell this story in a venue more worthy of this superb piece of theatre in the future.
INFORMATION: The show is in this tiny room, an anatomy lecture hall, at the Summerhall venue which is just mind-boggling to me, like the biggest inverse ratio of venue quality to performance quality you could imagine. There are single toilets out in the hall (I mean it’s a school!) and the bar/cafe has water pitchers AND tiny vegan Ben & Jerry’s, if you can believe it. (IF I can believe it? Watch this: I believe it!) The show went 14 minutes over, the one time you’re grateful for that.
One Jewish Boy at Trafalgar Studios is Incisive, Upsetting, & Too Relevant
Honestly, forking finally. Stephen Laughton’s One Jewish Boy is the Jewish representation London’s theatre scene has been not only severely lacking but opening mocking the need for. A four-hander (that’s right) telling the story of a couple – one Jewish boy and one mixed race girl – over their 15-year relationship, Laughton’s work is like all our (the chosen our) anxieties about identity and prejudice in anti-Semitic England and the world at large distilled into an hour and a half of excellent, inventive, heartbreaking story-telling.
One Jewish Boy shares the relationship of Jesse and Alex and how anti-Semitism (and specifically its effect on the titular boy) affects their happiness. The storytelling jumps around through time to show Jesse and Alex at different points, from the day she serves him with divorce papers to the day they first meet, from their wedding day to the day he proposes, the day they decide to have a baby, in seemingly random but ultimately poignant order. The key flashback is glimpsed multiple times but never fully shown: a 2013 attack that left Jesse hospitalized. He was beaten on the street for being Jewish, as his white supremacist attackers shouted things about Hitler and gassing (lines that are played several times on the speaker system, definitely necessitating more of a trigger warning than I saw anywhere). Jesse rightly deems this a hate crime, and understandably suffers a sort of PTSD for years and years to come, as this realization of how much hate exists threatens his ability to live fully and without constant fear, for him and his son and his community. Alex thinks he should get over it.
Now I said that a little flippantly, and Alex does give him time (although the anti-therapy vibe is so very British and so very infuriating (and accurate)), but ultimately she cannot abide his inability to get over it. Even though it’s impossible not to be haunted by that sort of trauma, she sees a line where that crosses into debilitating preoccupation. And this is one of the several incredibly difficult and heavy ideas that this play handles so well. Even though I tended to side with Jesse, you see where Alex is coming from, regarding this and all their problems. Alex wants Jesse to stop letting his attack define how he sees the world. As someone who is mixed race, she definitely has experience with racism and with coping with it, and her view is valid. (Although it’s kind of ridiculous to ask a Jew to stop being anxious, like is she new.)
Where the play excels is in presenting these significant issues in a provocative way, where even if you side with one of them, you understand both and there’s no clear answer. The content is difficult because it’s so relevant, for really all young people trying to navigate a world of more blatant racism as well as longstanding cultural differences with the people in their lives. Laughton touches on incredibly important concepts like inherited trauma (done so well on season 2 of Transparent, btw), circumcision, and even who to vote for. (I appreciated the very new bits about Labour and Corbyn’s anti-Semitism in the recent general, since people are still blaming Jews for his loss and I could go on a big long rant as I have before about how Jews are really the only group to be blamed for not happily supporting people who have clearly shown to be against them but I won’t do that right now.)
A lot of the content is distressing and leaves you with a “well, fuck” kind of sigh, so the amount of laughter throughout is pretty remarkable. That’s due to the writing (some of the jokes, my god, RightMove is the Tindr for married people?? THAT IS TRUE) as well as the superb performances. Robert Neumark-Jones makes his Jesse open and vulnerable and deeply felt while also remaining likeable even when he’s being a dick, driving Alex, a vibrant Asha Reid, crazy in the good and bad senses of the word. It seemed obvious to me that in the sort of battle where no one is right or wrong, Jesse was clearly not wrong, but it could be that I identified with and understood him more for the obvious reasons. Or maybe I side so strongly with Jesse because he liked to stay home and Alex seemed like a ‘fun girl’ who likes to go out, yeesh. But they both feel so authentic and so connected to each other’s performances, making their characters’ fundamental differences all the sadder.
The only thing I actively disliked was putting forward as fact, through Jesse’s statements, the dangerous idea that white Jews are not white. This is an ugly battle that Jews face, and to give in to the idea that Jewish is a race and not a religious or cultural identity plays into and gives ammunition to the ever-increasing othering. It wasn’t clear if this was a statement being made by the author or a nuanced way to show that Jesse was going over the top with his obsession about the world rejecting him, but even if it was the latter I don’t think it will be clear to many theatergoers, who might think ‘oh I guess white Jews aren’t white’ (and London audiences are traditionally mmm not the best at getting nuance with these sorts of issues; see e.g. every single other review of mine).
Aside from that, One Jewish Boy is an exceptionally discerning and sensitive play, with sharp writing and strong performances. It’s a must-see for anyone who cares about society’s prejudice and racism and rising hate, which should be everyone.
INFORMATION
One Jewish Boy is playing at Trafalgar Studios 2, the small studio, until April 4. Studio 2 is on the bottom level, the same as the bar, with one 4-stall ladies room next to the bar. There are no bad seats as it’s a small square, but I had the best seat in the history of theatre and I’m super thankful – right next to the door. Also it was 20 minutes shorter than I anticipated so I was OKAY (shout out to Greg Serrano (you know what I mean)).
There is some smoking, not to much but amplified by the tiny unventilated room, which got a little rough for me but most people should be fine. If you’re in the front row you will get vaped in the face.
